


Speaking His Mind

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Boarding School, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29389590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Malcolm is a mess after three days locked up in a closet and he feels very let down by his family when they didn’t even notice he was gone.
Comments: 27
Kudos: 54





	Speaking His Mind

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
> **Notes:** Written for my secret identities discovered prompt on hurt comfort bingo. Thanks to Procrastinating Sab for the title. It’s also a bit of a fix-it fic for some of the glaring continuity errors in the otherwise highly enjoyable Alma Mater episode.

Malcolm sulked in the back of the car next to his mother. He didn’t want to be going home with her. He was _furious_ with her. How could she not have noticed he was _gone_ for three damn days? He had spent the long weekend in that tiny closet with nothing but the janitor’s mop bucket to do his business in. No one had checked on him. They had to have heard him screaming. Didn’t janitors works nights and weekends? That school was never fully emptied. The teachers lived on campus. Someone heard him but by then they _knew_ , didn’t they? The serial killer’s bad seed was locked away. Leave him there.

Mother had the same thoughts. She had torn Headmaster Brumback a new one over the incidence. She was probably going to sue him personally but not the school since Malcolm’s great-grands had founded the place. Gil had been at the school as well as if police presence would faze these people. What happened to him was criminal – not that anyone would be punished - and Malcolm was going to fix Nicky for locking him the closet. He didn’t know how yet but he _would_ pay Nicky back for what he had done.

Of course, by the time he was back at the school, _everyone_ would know who he was, who his father was. This was supposed to be his break from being the serial killer’s kid. He’d been that at his last school. Only Vijay had made it bearable until he had outgrown Malcolm or whatever it was he’d done. Once Vijay’s dad had been freed and Vijay had become popular it was like Malcolm was an anchor holding him back. It was one of the reasons he’d been willing to go to Remington. He could be Malcolm Bright, sort of like a secret identity. 

Now that was ruined and so was he. Malcolm hadn’t wanted to go to the hospital to be checked out but everyone – including the hateful Brumback – insisted on it. Living in his own filth for three days could have had a bad affect on him. Malcolm turned out to be fine physically. Mentally, well, his hand tremor that Shannon had scared him into years ago was back so there was that. If nothing else maybe his fury could sustain him. 

“Speak to me, Malcolm.”

“Why?” He growled. “You didn’t even _miss_ me! Didn’t you even stop drinking highballs long enough to notice I wasn’t there?”

His mother twisted on the back seat. For a wild second he thought she might slap him, though she had never raised a hand to him not even at her drunkest. Malcolm regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He felt the color leaving him as if someone had pulled the drain plug out. His mother’s eyes flashed with rage but it flipped almost instantly to sorrow. He didn’t know what he’d do if she cried.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again!”

Malcolm dipped his chin, trying to form the words for an apology but he hurt too. “I screamed for three days. No one came for me.”

She reached out and tipped his chin up until he jerked away. “I am _sorry_ , Malcolm. I should have come after you or at the very least sent Gil. I did call. I was told you had gone to the city with that Van de Berg kid, you know the one I mean.”

Malcolm knew exactly who she meant. The Van de Bergs had been in New York since it had been New Amsterdam. Mother had pushed him toward Skylar Van de Berg at her debutante ball last summer even though he was a little young for her and who wanted the son of a serial killer anyhow. Certainly not a debutante with all the money and looks to get her anyone she wanted. “Why would you think that? I don’t even like Matthias.”

“And the last three times you were supposed to come home with me what did you do?” She arched her eyebrow at him.

Malcolm averted his gaze, his lower lip trembling until he bit it. He had known she was going to throw that at him. He had not shown up three times running, calling at the last minute to say he was going somewhere with pretend friends and spent the time hiding in his room. Once he’d actually gone with the new friends he’d made who actually liked Malcolm Bright for who he was. He bet they’d never speak to him again after this. The time before that he had called Gil and begged him to come get him. He told his mother he had plans with Gil that he had forgotten about and he couldn’t possibly go to the Met with her. He took in a stuttering breath past his tight throat. “I always called though.”

She slipped an arm around him, pulling him half sideways into a hug. If not for the seat belt, Mom would have had him all the way against her. “I thought you were with friends. Were you ever?”

“No,” he whispered, tears slipping down his face. “Okay, once I was.”

“I am so sorry, little wiggleworm.”

Malcolm jerked his head up at that. He hadn’t heard that nickname since before Dad was taken away. Mom had called him that growing up. Hearing it now made him cry harder. He wept silently until they pulled up to the house but it wasn’t the home he was expecting. He’d been so upset he hadn’t realized they weren’t going to the Upper East Side. Mom all but dragged him out of the car, holding him so tight breathing wasn’t possible. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, the sugary perfume she loved tickling his stuffed nose.

“Mom?” His voice was muffled by her shoulder.

“You are not going back to that school for a week, doctor’s orders. I thought since you were so upset with me and you should be, that maybe you needed some quality time with the Arroyos.”

The sadness in her voice made him step back. He glanced to the front porch where Gil stood. He must have come back directly from the school. Malcolm looked back at his mother and the tears standing in her eyes. She was upset that she had failed him, that he had been so grievously hurt emotionally both by her failure to rescue him and that he could have been so betrayed by a classmate. She wanted to make it right even if it meant swallowing her pride. Malcolm had never understood, as a child, why she constantly blew hot and cold with the Arroyos. Now that he was older he realized his mother was in pain. She might be grateful for their help but she was also hurt and jealous that he loved being with the Arroyos so much. The gratitude for having help on this very difficult path they walked was tempered with feelings of failure that she couldn’t do it alone, that he might actually prefer Jackie Arroyo as a mother.

What hurt most was sometimes Mom was right. At least Jackie wasn’t drunk in the middle of the day half the time or medicated into a stupor. Jackie Arroyo would have come looking for him had he not shown up in the Hamptons after she sent a car for him. She would have doubted the story he’d gone off with friends without so much as a phone call. He might stand his mother up for planned outings but he always let her know last minute. And he might not do it so often if she didn’t try to drink her troubles away. He feared for her, that one day too soon he might not have any parents left but the Arroyos.

“You don’t want me home?” he whispered.

“Wiggleworm, you come home with me right now if that’s what you want.” She brushed his hair out of his eyes. There it was again, the childhood nickname. She was _afraid_ for him. She wanted him to be that sweet little boy again but that kid was dead. “But if you need some space, stay here guilt free. I just want you to be happy.”

He looked between her and Gil again. “I can stay here for a few days, and then come home with you and Ainsley.”

“That’s perfectly fine. You just call me when you’re ready, baby.” She hugged him so tight his ribs creaked, and then beckoned to Gil.

Malcolm grabbed his suitcase out of the trunk and let his Mom kiss his cheek. “Thanks Mom.”

She turned to Gil. “He’s all yours. Gil, you don’t know what it means to have you here to…well, you know.”

Gil’s face was pinched. He was still on boil over what had happened. “Always, Jessica. You only have to call. Come on, kid. Jackie’s fixed you something special.”

Malcolm didn’t want food but he didn’t want to upset Jackie either. He waved goodbye to his mother and lugged his suitcase into the house. Luke and Leia, Jackie’s two cats, beat her to him to say hello. He didn’t even get a chance to set the suitcase down before Luke launched himself into Malcolm’s chest, twenty-two pounds of blue-grey fur and claws. He dropped the suitcase with a clatter so he could get hold of Jackie’s doofus of a cat before Luke clawed him a nipple ring piercing. He hugged Luke, rubbing his face in the cat’s thick silky fur.

“Hello to you too, Luke.” Malcolm widened his eyes as Luke squirmed free and tried to perch on his head. Gil rescued him as Jackie pulled him into a fierce hug. She kissed the same cheek Mom had.

“You go straight up to your room and change. I have something for you to help you relax.” She gave him a gentle push toward the stairs.

He wanted to tell her he was perfectly relaxed as he was. Suits didn’t make him feel uncomfortable but he obeyed. It was hard to say no to Jackie or any of the women in his life really. His room in the Arroyo household truly was his, right down to restraints on the bed for him. He hung up his clothing first and changed into lightweight trousers and a t-shirt Gil had gotten him that read “Don’t tell me to relax. Stress is the glue that holds me together.” It seemed oddly inappropriate at the moment but it was the most ‘relaxed’ thing he owned. Most of his clothing these days were Remington uniforms and right now he wanted to burn them into ash and hope nothing rose from it phoenix-like. 

Going down the stairs, he followed the sounds to the living room. It wasn’t like being home with more rooms than anyone knew what to do with. If Gil wasn’t in the living room, he would have been in the kitchen. Gil patted the couch cushion next to him and Malcolm sat.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but if you do, I’m here to listen,” he offered.

“I want to hurt Nicky,” he growled. He pictured it for three days, running scenarios his father had talked to him about over the years. He picked the ones that appealed to him the most, and then tried to wipe it all from his mind. “And that scares me, Gil.”

“You’re not a violent person, Malcolm.”

“Aren’t I?”

Gil shot him a look. They both knew he wasn’t. He bore two scars on his face now, one through his eyebrow, the other over his lip, thanks to never fighting back when the kids bullied him. This was different. This had been vicious on another level.

“I had three days to think about what I would do to Nicky for this and….” A shiver raced through him.

“It frightened you,” Gil finished for him.

Malcolm nodded. “I hate that I could even think the things I did…that I could be my father’s son after all.”

Gil made a face shaking his head. “Never going to happen, kid. You are nothing like him…not in that regard. You have his brains, no doubt of it. But you don’t have the narcissism.”

“I can be arrogant. That’s been pointed out to me.”

“There’s a difference between being arrogant and being a narcissist. You are a good person, Malcolm. Never doubt that.”

Malcolm’s lip wibbled and he tried to breathe deep to calm himself. He didn’t want to weep all over Gil, not that he wasn’t used to it. “They’ll all know now, Gil. I had months of just being me. I had a couple of friends. No one knew I was the Surgeon’s son. When I go back…” He couldn’t finish the thought. It was just too awful.

“They’ll all know, you’re right. Not a thing you can do about that. I wish I could tell you you’ll go back and your friends will still be your friends, that they’ll all see you are exactly the boy you were before this Nicky person found out. And he is not a nice young man. I met him and his parents today. They were dismissive and elitist, which I suppose at that school isn’t a surprise.”

Malcolm snorted. “No. Nicky wasn’t really a friend but to do that…to think I deserved it. What did I ever do to him?” He brushed at a tear that sneaked past his guard.

Gil patted his shoulder. “You did nothing to deserve what happened to you. I can’t imagine what kind of hell that was, Malcolm. I wish I could make it better but I can’t so I won’t pretend otherwise.”

Malcolm leaned against Gil’s shoulder. He wished he was a kid again so he could just hug him and cry and not feel self-conscious about it. Jackie came in carrying a heavy tray.

Gil popped up to help her. “You should have called me.”

“If I can move patients around all day, I can carry a tray,” she laughed him off. They settled the tray on the coffee table. Luke and Leia parked between the couch and table hoping for treats or theft opportunities until Jackie shooed them off gently. She sat on the other side of Malcolm on the couch.

Normally he’d fuss about having to sit this close to people but he wanted comforted and he let Jackie serve him up a little plate because he knew she wanted to take care of him. Both of them tried to show love with food. They were among the rare people he ate for, maybe because they cooked him less fussy things than Mom had prepared.

“Tembleque.” She smiled as he spooned into the coconut pudding treat before she said a word. She knew how much he loved it; sweet, easy to digest, it went down so easy. Even as he was eating she slipped a piece of pastry the size of a brownie on the plate too. “ _Panetela de guayaba y queso_.”

He hummed around his spoon, wanting to dig right into the cream cheese and guava paste cake. Whenever Jackie delved into her Puerto Rican background, he got the sweetest treats. He’d been known to actually gorge until he was sick, not that it took much. She had strong coffee to go with it, still in the pot because she knew he was paranoid about drinking things other people made for him. It’s not as if they were going to poison him, but he never thought his father was able to do that either. 

“Three sugars still?” Gil asked and he nodded, watching Gil pour all three of them cups and put in sugar from the same sugar bowl.

“Thank you, both of you for letting me stay,” he said, keeping his eyes on his pastries because he knew if he look at them he’d cry.

Jackie rubbed the back of his neck. “Always, you are _always_ welcome here.”

“I might not stay the whole week. I think Mom needs me.”

“She feels guilty about everything,” Jackie told him, which was not news to him. He merely nodded. “You stay as long as you want and then we’ll take you home.”

“Can the cats stay in my room tonight?” he asked in a soft voice.

“They go where they will but if you leave the door open…”

“I will,” he interrupted Gil. “I’m not sure I _can_ close the door right now. I don’t want doors closed.”

“Damn them,” Jackie cursed, hugging him tight, nearly upsetting his plate. The jiggling tembleque attracted Leia’s attention and he had to put his hand between a furry face and his plate. “I’m glad it was Gil who went to talk to the headmaster and the parents or there might have been more police at that school once I was through with that boy.”

Malcolm grinned. He knew Jackie meant it. Raised in the Bronx, she was tough as rebar and was not afraid to mention using a length of it if need be. He doubted she’d ever actually do it. She wouldn’t need it. Jackie was scary when angry. “I’m sure.”

“You’re going to be all right, sweetie.”

He sighed. “I hope so. I have you guys. That’s a lot. That’s what I need.”

“We’re glad,” she assured him.

Malcolm meant it. They took the best care of him. He was safe here. He needed to find that feeling inside himself. He could do that with the Arroyos. He would need to do something nice for Mom too, to let her know he appreciated her understanding he needed to be here. For a moment, it felt like everything might be all right. No matter what happened at school, he had a home to come to, two of them in fact. Things might work out and he could only hope for that.


End file.
